The Iron Trail

by Rex Beach

  V

  WHEREIN WE SEE CURTIS GORDON AND OTHERS

  Curtis Gordon's respect for his guest increased as they walked up thedock, for, before they had taken many steps, out from the crowd whichhad gathered to watch the ship's arrival stepped one of his foremen.This fellow shook hands warmly with O'Neil, whereupon others followed,one by one--miners, day laborers, "rough-necks" of many nationalities.They doffed their hats-something they never did for Gordon--andstretched out grimy hands, their faces lighting up with smiles. O'Neilaccepted their greetings with genuine pleasure and called them by name.

  "We just heard you was shipwrecked," said Gordon's foreman, anxiously."You wasn't hurt, was you?"

  "Not in the least."

  "God be praised! There's a lot of the old gang at work here."

  "So I see."

  "Here's Shorty, that you may remember from the North Pass." The speakerdragged from the crowd a red-faced, perspiring ruffian who had hungback with the bashfulness of a small boy. "He's the fellow you dug outof the slide at twenty-eight."

  "Connors!" cried O'Neil, warmly. "I'm glad to see you. And how are thetwo arms of you?"

  "Better 'n ever they was, the both av them!" Mr. Connors blushed,doubled his fists and flexed his bulging muscles. "An' why shouldn'tthey be, when you set 'em both with your own hands, Misther O'Neil?'Twas as good a job as Doc Gray ever done in the hospittle. I hopeyou're doin' well, sir." He pulled his forelock, placed one foot behindthe other, and tapped it on the planking, grinning expansively.

  "Very well indeed, thank you."

  O'Neil's progress was slow, for half the crowd insisted upon shakinghis hand and exchanging a few words with him. Clumsy Swedes bobbedtheir heads, dark-browed foreign laborers whose nationality it was hardto distinguish showed their teeth and chattered words of greeting.

  "Bless my soul!" Gordon exclaimed, finally.

  "You know more of them than I do."

  "Yes! I seldom have to fire a man."

  "Then you are favored of the gods. Labor is my great problem. It is thesupreme drawback of this country. These people drift and blow on everybreeze, like the sands of the Sahara. With more and better help I couldwork wonders here."

  Unexpected as these salutations had been, O'Neil's greatest surprisecame a moment later as he passed the first of the company buildings.There he heard his name pronounced in a voice which halted him, and inan open doorway he beheld a huge, loose-hung man of tremendous girth,with a war-bag in his hand and a wide black hat thrust back from ashiny forehead.

  "Why, Tom!" he exclaimed. "Tom Slater!"

  Gordon groaned and went on with the women, saying: "Come up to thehouse when you escape, Mr. O'Neil. I shall have dinner served."

  Mr. Slater came forward slowly, dragging his clothes-bag with him. Thetwo shook hands.

  "What in the world are you doing here, Tom?"

  "Nothing!" said Slater. He had a melancholy cast of feature, utterlyout of keeping with his rotund form. In his eye was the somber glow ofa soul at war with the flesh.

  "Nothing?"

  "I had a good job, putting in a power plant for his nibs"--he indicatedthe retreating Gordon with a disrespectful jerk of the thumb--"but Iquit."

  "Not enough pay?"

  "Best wages I ever got. He pays well."

  "Poor grub?"

  "Grub's fine."

  "What made you quit?"

  "I haven't exactly quit, but I'm going to. When I saw you coming up thedock I said: 'There's the chief! Now he'll want me.' So I began topack." The speaker dangled his partly filled war-bag as evidence. In aneven sourer tone he murmured:

  "Ain't that just me? I ain't had a day's luck since Lincoln was shot.The minute I get a good job along you come and spoil it."

  "I don't want you," laughed O'Neil.

  But Slater was not convinced. He shook his head.

  "Oh yes, you do. You've got something on or you wouldn't be here. I'vebeen drawing pay from you now for over five minutes."

  O'Neil made a gesture of impatience.

  "No! No! In the first place, I have nothing for you to do; in thesecond place, I probably couldn't afford the wages Gordon is payingyou."

  "That's the hell of it!" gloomily agreed "Happy Tom." "Where are yourgrips? I'll begin by carrying them."

  "I haven't any. I've been shipwrecked. Seriously, Tom, I have no placefor you."

  The repetition of this statement made not the smallest impression uponthe hearer.

  "You'll have one soon enough," he replied. Then with a touch of spirit,"Do you think I'd work for this four-flusher if you were in thecountry?"

  "Hush!" O'Neil cast a glance over his shoulder. "By the way, how do youhappen to be here? I thought you were in Dawson."

  "I finished that job. I was working back toward ma and the children. Ihaven't seen them for two years."

  "You think Gordon is a false alarm?"

  "Happy Tom" spat with unerring accuracy at a crack, then said:

  "He's talking railroads! Railroads! Why, I've got a boy back in thestate of Maine, fourteen years old--"

  "Willie?"

  "Yes. My son Willie could skin Curtis Gordon at railroad-building--andWillie is the sickly one of the outfit. But I'll hand it to Gordon forone thing; he's a money-getter and a money-spender. He knows where theloose stone in the hearth is laid, and he knows just which lilac bushthe family savings are buried under. Those penurious Pilgrim Fathers inmy part of the country come up and drop their bankbooks through theslot in his door every morning. He's the first easy money I ever had;I'd get rich off of him, but"--Slater sighed--"of course you had tocome along and wrench me away from the till."

  "Don't quit on my account," urged his former chief. "I'm up here oncoal matters. I can't take time to explain now, but I'll see you later."

  "Suit yourself, only don't keep me loafing on full time. I'm anexpensive man. I'll be packed and waiting for you."

  O'Neil went on his way, somewhat amused, yet undeniably pleased atfinding his boss packer here instead of far inland, for Slater'spresence might, after all, fit well enough into his plans.

  "The Irish Prince" had gained something of a reputation forextravagance, but he acknowledged himself completely outshone by theluxury with which Curtis Gordon had surrounded himself at Hope. Thepromoter had spoken of his modest living-quarters--in reality theyconsisted of a handsome twenty-room house, furnished with the eleganceof a Newport cottage. The rugs were thick and richly colored; thefurniture was of cathedral oak and mahogany. In the library were deepleather chairs and bookcases, filled mainly with the works of Frenchand German authors of decadent type. The man's taste in art wasrevealed by certain pictures, undeniably clever, but a little toodaring. He was undoubtedly a sybarite, yet he evidently possessed rareenergy and executive force. It was an unusual combination.

  The dinner was notable mainly for its lavish disregard of expense.There were strawberries from Seattle, fresh cream and butter fromGordon's imported cows, cheese prepared expressly for him in France,and a champagne the date of which he took pains to make known.

  On the whole he played the part of host agreeably enough and hisconstant flow of talk was really entertaining. His anecdotes embracedthree continents; his wit, though Teutonic, was genial andmirth-provoking. When Mrs. Gerard took time from her worshipful regardof her daughter to enter the conversation, she spoke with easy charmand spontaneity. As for Natalie, she was intoxicated with delight; shechattered, she laughed, she interrupted with the joyful exuberance ofyouth.

  Under such circumstances the meal should have proved enjoyable, yet theguest of honor had never been more ill at ease. Precisely whataccounted for the feeling he could not quite determine. Somewhere backin his mind was a suspicion that things were not as they should be,here in this house of books and pictures and incongruities. He toldhimself that he should not be so narrow-minded as to resent GloriaGerard's presence here, particularly since she herself had told himthat her friendship for Gordon dated back many years. Nevertheless, theimpressi
on remained to disturb him.

  "You wonder, perhaps, why I have been so extravagant with myliving-quarters," said Gordon, as they walked into the library, "but itis not alone for myself. You see I have people associated with me whoare accustomed to every comfort and luxury and I built this house forthem. Mrs. Gerard has been kind enough to grace the establishment withher presence, and I expect others of my stock-holders to do likewise.You see, I work in the light, Mr. O'Neil; I insist upon the broadestpublicity in all my operations, and to that end I strive to bring myclients into contact with the undertaking itself. For instance, I ambringing a party of my stockholders all the way from New York, at myown expense, just to show them how their interests are beingadministered. I have chartered a special train and a ship for them, andof course they must be properly entertained while here."

  "Quite a scheme," said O'Neil.

  "I wanted to show them this marvelous country, God's wonderland ofopportunity. They will return impressed by the solidity and permanenceof their investment."

  Certainly the man knew how to play his game. No more effective means ofadvertising, no more profitable stock-jobbing scheme could be devisedthan a free trip of that sort and a tour of Alaska under the watchfulguidance of Curtis Gordon. If any member of the party returnedunimpressed it would not be the fault of the promoter; if any one ofthem did not voluntarily go out among his personal friends as amissionary it would be because Gordon's magnetism had lost its power.O'Neil felt a touch of unwilling admiration.

  "I judge, from what you say, that the mine gives encouragement," heventured, eying his host curiously through a cloud of tobacco smoke.

  "'Encouragement' is not the word. Before many years 'Hope Consolidated'will be listed on the exchanges of the world along with 'Amalgamated'and the other great producers. We have here, Mr. O'Neil, a tremendousmountain of ore, located at tide water, on one of the world's finestharbors. The climate is superb; we have coal near at hand for our ownsmelter. The mine only requires systematic development under competenthands."

  "I was in Cortez when Lars Anderson made his first discovery here, andI had an option on all this property. I believe the price was twelvehundred dollars; at any rate, it was I who drove those tunnels youfound when you bought him out."

  Gordon's eyes wavered briefly, then he laughed.

  "My dear sir, you have my sincere sympathy. Your poison, my meat--as itwere, eh? You became discouraged too soon. Another hundred feet of workand you would have been justified in paying twelve hundred thousanddollars. This 'Eldorado' which the Copper Trust has bought has agreater surface showing than 'Hope,' I grant; but--it lies two hundredmiles inland, and there is the all-important question of transportationto be solved. The ore will have to be hauled, or smelted on the ground,while we have the Kyak coal-fields at our door. The Heidlemanns arebuilding a railroad to it which will parallel mine in places, but thevery nature of their enterprise foredooms it to failure."

  "Indeed? How so?"

  "My route is the better. By a rigid economy of expenditure, by acareful supervision of detail, I can effect a tremendous saving overtheir initial cost. I hope to convince them of the fact, and thusinduce them to withdraw from the field or take over my road at--areasonable figure. Negotiations are under way."

  At this talk of economy from Curtis Gordon O'Neil refrained fromsmiling with difficulty. He felt certain that the man's entireoperations were as unsound as his statement that he could bring theTrust to terms. Yet Gordon seemed thoroughly in earnest. Either heexpected to fool his present hearer, or else he had become hypnotizedby the spell of his own magnificent twaddle--O'Neil could not tellwhich.

  "Who laid out your right-of-way?" he asked with some interest.

  "A very able young engineer, Dan Appleton. An excellent man,but--unreliable in certain things. I had to let him go, this veryafternoon, in fact, for insubordination. But I discharged him more forthe sake of discipline than anything else. He'll be anxious to returnin a few days. Now tell me"--Gordon fixed his visitor with a blandstare which failed to mask his gnawing curiosity--"what brings you toKing Phillip Sound? Are we to be rivals in the railroad field?"

  "No. There are enough projects of that sort in the neighborhood for thepresent."

  "Five, all told, but only one destined to succeed."

  "I'm bound for the Kyak coal-fields to perfect and amend my surveysunder the new ruling."

  "Ah! I've heard about that ruling."

  "Heard about it?" exclaimed O'Neil. "Good Lord! Haven't you compliedwith it?"

  "Not yet."

  "You surely intend to do so?"

  "Oh yes--I suppose so."

  "If you don't you'll lose--"

  "I'm not sure we can ever win."

  "Nonsense!"

  "I'm not sure that it's wise to put more good money into those coalclaims," said Gordon. "This ruling will doubtless be reversed as theothers have been. One never knows what the Land Office policy will betwo days at a time."

  "You know your own business," O'Neil remarked after a pause, "butunless you have inside information, or a bigger pull in Washington thanthe rest of us, I'd advise you to get busy. I'll be on my way to Kyakin the morning with a gang of men." Gordon's attitude puzzled him, forhe could not bring himself to believe that such indifference wasgenuine.

  "We have been treated unfairly by the Government."

  "Granted!"

  "We have been fooled, cheated, hounded as if we were a crowd ofundesirable aliens, and I'm heartily sick of the injustice. I prefer towork along lines of least resistance. I feel tempted to let Uncle Samhave my coal claims, since he has lied to me and gone back on hispromise, and devote myself to other enterprises which offer a certaintyof greater profits. But"--Gordon smiled deprecatingly--"I dare say Ishall hold on, as you are doing, until that fossilized bureau atWashington imposes some new condition which will ruin us all."

  Remembering Natalie's statement that her own and her mother's fortuneswere tied up in the mines, O'Neil felt inclined to go over Gordon'shead and tell the older woman plainly the danger of delay in complyingwith the law, but he thought better of the impulse. Her confidence inthis man was supreme and it seemed incredible that Gordon shouldjeopardize her holdings and his own. More likely his attitude was justa part of his pose, designed to show the bigness of his views and toshed a greater luster upon his railroad project.

  It was difficult to escape from the hospitality of Hope, and O'Neilsucceeded in doing so only after an argument with Natalie and hermother. They let him go at last only upon his promise to return on hisway back from the coal-fields, and they insisted upon accompanying himdown to the dock, whither Gordon had preceded them in order to have hismotor-boat in readiness.

  As they neared the landing they overheard the latter in spirited debatewith "Happy Tom" Slater.

  "But my dear fellow," he was saying, "I can't lose you and Appleton onthe same day."

  "You can't? Why, you've done it!" the fat man retorted, gruffly.

  "I refuse to be left in the lurch this way. You must give more notice."

  Slater shrugged, and without a word tossed his bulging war bag into themotor-boat which lay moored beneath him. His employer's face was purplewith rage as he turned to Murray and the ladies, but he calmed himselfsufficiently to say:

  "This man is in charge of important work for me, yet he tells me youhave hired him away."

  "Tom!" exclaimed O'Neil.

  "I never said that," protested Slater. "I only told you I was workingfor Murray."

  "Well?"

  "I hired myself. He didn't have anything to say about it. I do all thehiring, firing, and boosting in my department."

  "I appeal to you, O'Neil. I'm short-handed," Gordon cried.

  "I tell you he don't have a word to say about it," Slater declared withheat.

  Natalie gave a little tinkling laugh. She recognized in this man themelancholy hero of more than one tale "The Irish Prince" had told her.Murray did his best, but knowing "Happy Tom's" calm obstinacy of old,he had no
real hope of persuading him.

  "You see how it is," he said, finally. "He's been with me for years andhe refuses to work for any one else while I'm around. If I don't takehim with me he'll follow."

  Mr. Slater nodded vigorously, then imparted these tidings:

  "It's getting late, and my feet hurt." He bowed to the women, thenlowered himself ponderously yet carefully over the edge of the dock andinto the leather cushions of the launch. Once safely aboard, he took apackage of wintergreen chewing-gum from his pocket and began to chew,staring out across the sound with that placid, speculative enjoymentwhich reposes in the eyes of a cow at sunset.

  Curtis Gordon's face was red and angry as he shook hands stiffly withhis guest and voiced the formal hope that they would meet again.

  "I'm glad to be gone," Slater observed as the speed-boat rushed acrossthe bay. "I'm a family man, and--I've got principles. Gordon's gotneither."

  "It was outrageous for you to walk out so suddenly. It embarrassed me."

  "Oh, he'd let me go without notice if he felt like it. He fired DanAppleton this afternoon just for telling the truth about the mine.That's what I'd have got if I'd stayed on much longer. I was filling upwith words and my skin was getting tight. I'd have busted, sure, insideof a week."

  "Isn't the mine any good?"

  "It ain't a mine at all. It's nothing but an excavation filled withdamn fools and owned by idiots; still, I s'pose it serves Gordon'spurpose." After a pause he continued: "They tell me that snakes eattheir own young! Gordon ought to call that mine the Anaconda, for it'llswallow its own dividends and all the money those Eastern people canraise."

  "I'm sorry for Mrs. Gerard."

  Slater emitted a sound like the moist exhalation of a porpoise as itrises to the surface.

  "What do you mean by that snort?" asked Murray.

  "It's funny how much some people are like animals. Now the ostrichthinks that when his head is hid his whole running-gear is out ofsight. Gordon's an ostrich. As for you--you remind me of a mud turtle.A turtle don't show nothing but his head, and when it's necessary hecan yank that under cover. Gordon don't seem to realize that he sticksup above the underbrush--either that or else he don't care who seeshim. He and that woman--"

  "Never mind her," exclaimed O'Neil, quickly. "I'm sure you're mistaken."

  Mr. Slater grunted once more, then chewed his gum silently, staringmournfully into the twilight. After a moment he inquired:

  "Why don't you show these people how to build a railroad, Murray?"

  "No, thank you! I know the country back of here. It's not feasible."

  "The Copper Trust is doing it."

  "All the more reason why I shouldn't. There are five projects under waynow, and there won't be more than enough traffic for one."

  Slater nodded. "Every man who has two dollars, a clean shirt, and afriend at Washington has got a railroad scheme up his sleeve."

  "It will cost thirty million dollars to build across those threedivides and into the copper country. When the road is done it will beone of heavy grades, and--"

  "No wonder you didn't get the contract from the Heidlemanns--if yourestimate was thirty million."

  "I didn't put in a figure."

  Tom looked surprised. "Why didn't you? You know them."

  "I was like the little boy who didn't go to the party--I wasn't asked."The speaker's expression showed that his pride had been hurt anddiscouraged further questioning. "We'll hire our men and our boatsto-night," he announced. "I've arranged for that freighter to drop usoff at Omar on her way out. We'll have to row from there to Kyak. Iexpected to land my horses at the coast and pack in from Kyak Bay, butthat shipwreck changed my plans. Poor brutes! After my experience I'llnever swim horses in this water again."

  An eleven-o'clock twilight enveloped Cortez when the two men landed,but the town was awake. The recent railway and mining activity in theneighborhood had brought a considerable influx of people to KingPhillip Sound, and the strains of music from dance-hall doors, theclick of checks and roulette balls from the saloons, gave evidence ofan unusual prosperity.

  O'Neil had no difficulty in securing men. Once he was recognized, thescenes at Hope were re-enacted, and there was a general scramble toenlist upon his pay-roll. Within an hour, therefore, his arrangementswere made, and he and Tom repaired to Callahan's Hotel for a few hours'sleep.

  A stud game was going on in the barroom when they entered, and O'Neilpaused to watch it while Slater spoke to one of the players, aclean-cut, blond youth of whimsical countenance. When the two friendsfinally faced the bar for their "nightcap" Tom explained:

  "That's Appleton, the fellow Gordon fired to-day. I told him I'd leftthe old man flat."

  "Is he a friend of yours?"

  "Sure. Nice boy--good engineer, too."

  "Umph! That game is crooked."

  "No?" "Happy Tom" displayed a flash of interest.

  "Yes, Cortez is fast becoming a metropolis, I see. The man in the derbyhat is performing a little feat that once cost me four thousand dollarsto learn."

  "I'd better split Dan away," said Tom, hastily.

  "Wait! Education is a good thing, even if it is expensive at times. Ifancy your friend is bright enough to take care of himself. Let's waita bit."

  "Ain't that just my blamed luck?" lamented Slater. "Now if they wereplaying faro I could make a killing. I'd 'copper' Appleton's bets and'open' the ones he coppered!"

  O'Neil smiled, for "Happy Tom's" caution in money matters wasnotorious. "You know you don't believe in gambling," he said.

  "It's not a belief, it's a disease," declared the fat man. "I was bornto be a gambler, but the business is too uncertain. Now that I'mgetting so old and feeble I can't work any more, I'd take it up, only Ibroke three fingers and when I try to deal I drop the cards. What arewe going to do?"

  "Just wait," said O'Neil.